


Hidden Talents

by jaybug_jimmies



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: M/M, Short One Shot, Suggestive, just a little silliness, legault is drunk and horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 19:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14003475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybug_jimmies/pseuds/jaybug_jimmies
Summary: “They were both more than a little drunk, although Heath was definitely handling his alcohol a little more gracefully.”





	Hidden Talents

They were both more than a little drunk, although Heath was definitely handling his alcohol a little more gracefully.

Legault was obnoxious at the best of times, always insisting on hanging about Heath despite numerous, vigorous attempts to repel him. However, Heath's usual irritation was subdued this evening, drowned out in the swirling buzz of ale. As such, he had allowed Legault to join him at his table, and even ended up in a lengthy conversation with him, although the conversation was turning progressively more nonsensical as the night wore on.

The entire group had the rare luxury of staying at one of the lordling's castles overnight. With no danger on the immediate horizon and the promise of a late start tomorrow, they were allowed to feast, to rest, and to take a well-deserved bracing breath. The spacious dining room of the castle was strewn with the evening's festives, many of Eliwood's army still eating, drinking, or talking and laughing, although plenty more had already retired for the night. The candles of the chandelier above them flickered merrily with light, and Heath found himself gazing hypnotically up at it after a while. His sixth-- seventh?-- pint of ale sat half-finished on the table in front of him, as Legault chattered away in his general direction.

The mysterious, lavender-haired assassin normally had an oddly cheery edge to his calm, relaxed exterior, but the more he drank, the more cheerful and talkative he became, simply underscoring and exaggerating the tendency. Heath had a feeling he would probably find it incredibly aggravating under normal circumstances, but he was actually finding it entertaining at the moment. He was especially amused that his smooth, velvety speech was starting to slip into a stereotypical drunken slur, and his normal careful modesty was giving way to flagrant cockiness. At the moment, he was getting riled up about castle security in Ostia.

"Trust me, Heath, honey, it's not anywhere near what it's cracked up to be. I've taken a few sojourns into here back in the day, and the guard arrangement was a joke even back then. Guys think a dozen knights decked out in so much armor they can't move is gonna hold up the entire fort."

Heath smirked, glancing across the room, observing,

"You might want to keep your voice down, Hector's still sitting not too far away from us."

Legault pushed back against his chair, hard enough to make the back tip briefly, and chuckled.

"I'm not worried about him. What'll he do? Lock me up? With Ostia's mighty security?"

Heath's smile widened to a grin upon hearing Legault tripping sloppily over the word 'Ostia.'

"Mmmm, it would certainly give the rest of our march some peace and quiet if he did lock you up."

Legault gestured at him with his mug of ale and said,

"You'd miss me. Don't deny it."

"I will most certainly deny it."

"I'd be out in a heartbeat, anyway. Was jailed by them once, y'know. Took me five minutes to escape, maybe less?"

"You're full of shit."

"I'm dead fucking serious."

Heath snorted into his drink, which Legault seemed to take as an affront to all things good and pure in this world.

"Heath, they posted a _single guard_ outside my door. I picked the lock in under a minute. It was . . .  it was _insulting."_

"Under a minute. Mmm-hmm. It was five minutes just a little bit ago."

"The extra four minutes was for knocking the guard on his ass! The lock took thirty seconds."

"Oh, now it's thirty seconds!"

"What part of 'under' a minute don't you get?"

_"Psshh."_

Legault fixed him with a fiery, challenging gaze, cheeks flushed from his inebriation.

"If you knew anything about lockpicking at all, you'd know I'm right. Theirs are pitiful for what's supposedly the mightiest military state of Lycia. I could pick one of theirs with my hands tied behind my back."

Heath laughed readily and sipped at his ale.

"I'd like to see you try."

Legault straightened in his seat, a cocky gleam in his eye.

"Yeah? Let's go. I'll prove it right now."

Heath laughed again, but realized the man looked quite serious.

"Legault, you're mad. And also drunk."

"You afraid of being proven wrong?"

Heath huffed in amusement, feeling an eagerness settle into him. Admittedly, it would be pretty delicious to see this poor drunken fool struggle so fruitlessly.

"All right, fine. I could go for a little entertainment this evening."

"Excellent," Legault said, springing from his chair, then grabbing onto the table before he could fall flat on his face. Heath cackled at him openly.

"How's a man who can't stand up going to pull this off?"

The man frowned at him, looking only briefly embarrassed before his dumb optimism kicked back in.

"Shut up. I don't need my faculties at 100% to do something this easy. Now follow me."

The pair of them shuffled out of the dining hall, unnoticed by the other partygoers, and Heath followed him up the winding staircase, nudging him up a few times when he swayed. It was only when they were wandering down the halls that Heath thought to ask where they were even going.

"Legault, where--"

"--which one is your room, anyway?"

Heath blinked slowly and took a moment to consider the question. His was . . . umm. Hmm. Which one was his again? There were too many doors in this castle and they all looked the same. He stared for a bit and then suddenly lit up.

"Wait, that one. At the end of the hall-- the second to last. Yeah."

"Ok, good."

Legault carried on down the hall and Heath suddenly exclaimed,

"Wait, why are we going to my room?!"

The assassin shot a grin at him.

"Calm down. We're just using your door. You have your room key, right?"

"Oh. Uh. Maybe?"

Heath patted his pockets, trying to remember what he did with it.

"I think I left it in my room, give me a second."

As Heath opened the door and entered his room, he twisted back and added emphatically at the man trying to follow behind him,

"Hey, no, wait _there!"_

Legault grinned but stopped in the threshold and waited. After a few moments, Heath managed to locate the room key he'd left on the nightstand beside his bed. He retrieved it and stepped back out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

"Good, now lock the door."

As Heath did as instructed, he felt a wave of disbelief at how stupid this was. He started to truly analyze the situation.

"Legault, what the hell do you plan on doing, anyway? Pick the lock with your teeth?"

The man in front of him broke out into an enormous smirk.

"Well, yeah. What else did you think I would do?"

Heath took a half-step backwards, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

"You're mad," he repeated himself. As if in response, Legault tugged the purple bandana from his hair, handing it to Heath. The wyvern rider frowned in confusion.

"What . . .?"

Legault turned around, settling his hands behind his back, and then shot Heath a look over his shoulder, darting a tongue over his teeth. He looked practically giddy.

"Tie me up."

Heath felt his already flushed face turning redder and he stepped back again reflexively, blurting,

"What?!"

Legault backed a little toward him.

"You want me to do this with my hands tied behind my back, don't you?"

Heath paused. Oh, right. He did say that.

Wincing, feeling awkward and mildly embarrassed, Heath stepped forward and took the bandana in hand. After straightening the fabric out a little, he looped the cloth around Legault's wrists and tied a fat knot. The man made a dissatisfied sound.

"No, make it tighter."

Heath huffed, snapping at him,

"Why do you need it tighter?"

"I don't want you having _any_ way to claim I cheated, because I'm about to blow your mind."

Heath rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Hold still."

Legault made a sound under his breath that Heath didn't exactly care for-- it sounded way too suspiciously lewd-- but Heath undid the knot and wrapped the bandana again, tugging tight enough that it was probably just short of cutting off circulation, then knotted the bandana securely in place.

"How's that?"

"That's goddamn perfect."

Yeah, he was enjoying this way too much. Heath pushed the man forward.

"Just get to work. It's gonna take a lot to impress me."

"Well, you'd better prepare yourself to be impressed."

Heath watched as Legault sized up the door for a moment, then looked down at his ring of lockpicks.

Which were hanging off his belt.

His face seemed to fall a little as this realization sunk in. He slid a glance over to Heath. The wyvern rider crossed his arms.

"Well?" he said, pretending to be unaware of the problem that he was fully aware of.

Legault wriggled a moment, shaking his hips and jostling his belt. He tried bending over and reaching, but the ring of picks was hopelessly out of reach. He splayed his legs out and bent over further, hair spilling over every which-way, snapping uselessly at his own crotch. Heath put a hand on his mouth and tried desperately to squash his laughter, but it came out painfully through his nose.

"I-- I knew this would be good, but oh, gods. This is fantastic."

After a little more struggle, Legault straightened back up. His face was bright red from not only drunkenness but from hanging upside down, and his hair hung over him in loose strands. Sounding surprisingly coherent, he said,

"Perhaps you could allow me one small concession? While I'm pretty flexible, I admit I'm not actually a contortionist."

Heath grinned.

"Sure, if that'll keep this show going."

Legault turned and gave his hips a little jiggle.

"Then could you be a dear and get my lockpicks for me?"

Heath dropped his eyes down to the small golden ring of lockpicks dangling off his belt, just to the side of his belt buckle. Without stopping to think much about it, he reached out and snagged the metal loop with a finger, giving it a tug, but it was fastened into place. Frowning, he used his other hand to lift the excess flap of belt hanging in the way and examined the metal ring more carefully. It was fastened into one of the small metal holes riveted into the leather belt. He twisted at the ring and tugged again, but it was very firmly attached. He wrestled with the little fiddly bit of metal for a few moments, but quickly grew annoyed.

Growling, Heath leaned in further, trying to see how the stupid clasp worked, tugging at it with increasing aggression.

"How the heck do you get this _off?"_

"You-- don't pull, you just have to twist it."

"I _am._ It just won't--"

Legault made a little squeaky sound as Heath tugged again. The wyvern rider paused, suddenly painfully mindful of how close he had his face to the man's crotch. He snapped up like he was veering back from a cobra, catching the delighted look in Legault's eye, and growled at him;

"Why didn't you do this _first?"_

"Look, you almost had it, you just had to twist it clockwise a little more."

Heath glared, but twisted at the ring and was surprised when he felt it give way easily this time. It slipped from the belt fluidly.

Embarrassed over how obnoxiously difficult it had been for him, Heath thrust the ring of lockpicks towards Legault.

"Here. _Take_ the damn thing."

The man's lips curved into a silly little smile as he returned Heath's gaze. Then he dipped his head down to Heath's hand and took the ring of lockpicks up in his teeth. Heath felt the wave of uneasiness return as the man grinned up at him salaciously. Heath swallowed and complained,

"Quit stalling. It's already been well over five minutes, you know."

Thankfully, Legault stopped looking at him like that, finally turning and approaching Heath's door. He spoke around the ring of lockpicks.

"I shaid I could pick it with my handsh behind my back. I never claimed I could do that part in under five minutes."

"Sounds to me like you're just making excuses. Honestly, Legault? I don't think you're going to come even close to doing this. You're a mess."

Legault chuckled a little, and then dropped down to his knees in front of the door, splaying his legs wide and examining the lock with sharp eyes. After a moment, he hummed to himself, as if deciding something. Then he gave his head a little toss, messily clacking the metal ring along in his mouth, rotating it until he reached the series of picks on it. With a few more jerks of his head, he seemed to reach the desired selection, and then slid his lips down the pick, wriggling it with surprising speed into position. With the handle of the pick in his teeth, he nudged forward, sliding the pick into the lock.

Heath watched in fascination as Legault made careful, subtle motions with the pick, lifting up, then pressing sideways a little. He actually looked . . . like he knew what he was doing. Despite himself, Heath drew forward a little, trying to get a better view. Legault grunted and pressed the pick deeper into the lock, smushing his nose up against the lock as he attempted what looked to be a difficult sideways motion. His expression was screwed up in deep concentration. Heath could hear the pick rattling a little inside, and he couldn't help but start to quietly hope maybe Legault might actually be able to do this.

However, after a little more pressing and clicking about, Legault leaned back slightly with a mumble. Heath found himself asking,

"Problem?"

"Jush a minor setback," he heard the man reply, his voice strangely low and calm. He jerked his head back and tossed the ring into the air, then snapped it up cleanly, moving a new pick into place with his lips. He pushed forward into the lock again, mouth pressed right up against it, giving the absurd appearance that he was french-kissing with the door. If Heath wasn't so enraptured by the bizarre spectacle, he would have laughed, but he was almost afraid to make any sound. Instead he continued to watch in a hushed silence.

Then, Legault made an excited mumble, so Heath supposed he must have done something promising. Straining, the man pressed his body flush against the door, craning his neck as he pushed for the right angle on the lock. His hair had long draped in messy strands over his face, but he ignored it, obviously doing things completely by touch. Shifting the pick in his teeth very carefully, Heath watched as Legault stuck his tongue out and slid it into the hole of the lock while still maintaining pressure on the lockpick.

Heath let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Was this man for real?

"You're going to get your damn tongue _stuck_ in there--"

Legault rumbled a completely incomprehensible sound in reply, mouth preoccupied with a ridiculous level of acrobatics. Heath watched him flick his tongue around and press it in deeper, a sight that irrationally set off a hot flutter in Heath's chest. Aggravated, Heath was about to snap another warning to the man about getting stuck, but then there was a distinct clicking sound and the insane man made a choked noise-- of victory?

Heath stared as Legault withdrew his face from its intimate press against the lock, letting the ring of lockpicks clatter to the floor. He turned his flushed expression upon Heath, wearing the smuggest, most self-satisfied smile he'd ever seen. The man then licked his lips and invited him,

"Go ahead. Open it."

Heath was immobile at first, unable to really believe it. There's no way he actually . . . but at Legault's continued look, he came forward and grabbed the handle.

He twisted the knob and opened the door.

Heath turned. Legault had climbed back to his feet and was grinning at him. Heath continued to stare for a few beats.

"Okay," Heath began. He finally let the smile overtake his face.

"I hate to admit it when I'm wrong, but that . . . that was kind of fantastic."

_"Right?!"_

Heath chuckled at Legault's jubilant reply. He looked so happy.

Maybe this guy wasn't so terrible after all. In an amused tone, Heath asked,

"You want me to untie you now?"

Legault's brows curved upwards and he lidded his eyes in a gaze that was starting to become all too familiar. He answered in a thick, honeyed tone:

"Unless there's something else you'd like to do to me."

No, wait, no. Heath was wrong-- he was still terrible.

"Legault, no."

He flashed a smirk at him.

"You can't blame a guy for trying."

"Yes, I can. Now turn around."

This, as it turned out, was the wrong thing to say. Heath flushed hot again, scandalized at Legault's response and added shrilly,

"Don't _bend over!"_

Legault sighed, as if he somehow had the right to be exasperated.

"Heath, I feel like you're sending me a lot of mixed signals here."

_"Fucking--"_

"--yes, that's what I've been trying to get at!"

"AUGH!"

Heath backed off and fumed at him,

"I was going to help you out, but I think I'll just leave you like this now. Enjoy the night tied up like that."

He escaped into his room, shutting the door and locking it behind him. On the other side of the door, he heard Legault's muffled reply.

"Oh, c'mon, Heath, don't be like that."

 Heath stalked over to a chair and sat down, grabbing a book.

"Goodnight Legault."

"Heeeeath. C'mon."

"Go away."

The door handle rattled a little. There was a brief pause.

"You do realize I could just pick your door again, right?"

Heath frowned. Goddamnit.

"I'll-- I'll hold the door shut if you do."

"Oh," came the reply from the other side. It sounded . . . sad.

"Okay," added the voice, growing even more somber.

Heath winced.

He wasn't falling for his pathetic act. There was no way. Legault damn well deserved to stay out there.

The voice outside added quietly,

"G'night . . ."

Heath grit his teeth.

_Goddamnit._

He heaved a sigh as he got up to go open the door and help the moron standing out in the hall.


End file.
